Old Buidling on Keith Ave. in the Canton Industrial Park

She sighs over heavy machinery, coal, ship dock hands
a headless apparition
from a more affluent era
her sequin flapper dress just
metal window frames rusted
a shimmer from broken glass
against the backdrop of a dark
modern October cloud bank
she once was someone statuesque
the men couldn’t take their eyes off.
Now, phantom, feel the wind blow straight through your spine.

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Filed under Baltimore, poem, poetry, readpoetry, stream of consciousness

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